Yes, Sherlock?
by Black-Coffee-Two-Sugar-Please
Summary: The way she says it makes him want to seize her by her throat, forcing her to look into his eyes, and remember: He is her master. Mind the Manner. [Written for the LJ prompt asking a dark possessive Sherlock. Warning: potential BDSM]
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is written for the LJ prompt asking for a dark possessive Sherlock. This isn't betaed so all the errors are mine. Dear anon OP, I'm not sure whether you can see this, but I do hope this meets your expectation (I'm still on my way of practicing writing smut :P).

Disclaimer: Nope. Not a bit is mine.

Warning: Potential BDSM.

* * *

Yes, Sherlock?

ONE

"Molly."

"Yes, Sherlock?"

The way she said it made him want to seize her by her throat, forcing her to look into his eyes, and remember: _He is her master._ _Mind the Manner. _

Sherlock took a deep breathe, and reminded himself again he had absolutely no right to claim her as his own.

_Not yet_.

_You don't want to spook the prey._ The ruthless beast inside him reasoned. _Don't scare her away. _

Instead, he leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Where are the cultures I put on the bench, Molly?"

Molly straightened at the instant of his touch. The corner of Sherlock's mouth curled up, proud of his influence on her. Her pupils were already dilated and he hadn't really done anything yet. If only he could have had his ways, om nom nom…

"I…" Molly shook her head, "I don't know. I noticed they are gone this morning. I thought you finished them and got rid of them yourself." She seemed slightly panicked.

Sherlock didn't say anything. He just concentrated on her with his piercing green eyes, deducing her every little move.

Her face was now crimson. "I could re-cultivate them if that's what you want. Please don't throw a tantrum at me, Sherlock."

That was not what he wanted.

Tantrum was never his thing.

"What were they? Fungus? I could get you anything, Sherlock."

_Anything._

He was tempted. Her eager to compensate had always been entertaining. He was wondering how far he could push her. Would she let him spank her? Would she squat down nakedly and put hands on her toes with back straight like a cat? Would she say "Yes", if he wanted to tie her up, gag her and fuck her into oblivion? She had always been such a good girl to him and he had confidence in his power of persuasion.

_One step at a time_. The beast warned him. The beast was no fun.

"I want a body, fresh, white, female, average height, between twenty to forty years old, non-alcoholic."

_You._

"You are in luck!" Molly over-cheerfully introduced him to the morgue, partly because of her guilt of losing Sherlock's experiment.

Sherlock zipped down the body bag and scrutinized the corpse.

"Yes. She will do just fine." Sherlock turned back to look for his tools.

"Sherlock, about your experiment…" Sherlock turned to her and interrupted Molly's mumbling with a whip in the air.

"Out!"

That was an order.

Molly eyed the whip in Sherlock's right hand, and swallowed.

"Unless…Of course, if you would like to participate." Sherlock said it as if he was inviting Molly to look into the microscope for him.

"I'll be waiting outside." Molly blushed more and ran away immediately while Sherlock torn the bag away.

* * *

Molly swallowed hard when she saw Sherlock rolling up his sleeves through the window. She couldn't help but gasp when Sherlock's first whip fell on the poor body. The whip left a long bruise over the corpse's abdomen. Molly touched hers as if she was the one lying on the table.

Sherlock turned to her with a wicked grin as if he could hear her thought. He looked at her like a hunter aiming his rifle at a moose, focused and determined. Any moment could be the end of her. His fingers grasped the whip tightly. Without any indication, he lashed one more time while maintaining eye contact with her alluringly. The sight of him whipping and sweating made her flesh creep.

This was wrong. She shouldn't find the scene magnetic and intense. This was disturbing. This was sick. Molly ran to her desk and sat down. She told herself not to be bothered. The third one was weak and the fourth one was cruel. She closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind of the image of Sherlock being rough and controlling. Instead, she was drawn into her imagination.

_She was lying on her back on the metal bench, arms on her breasts, desperately saving her last dignity. She understood perfectly that right now she was under his mercy. _

_At the door stood Sherlock. He crossed his arms in front of her chest and seemed amused at her pathetic and useless attempt. With a small movement of his wrist, the whip directed towards her. _

_She dodged but another whip hit right on her left hip. "Ouch!" She cried out loud, raised her left side to the air and touched where the whip had landed. Even under her own touch, she winced. It hurt like hell. _

_Sherlock didn't wait before lashing out again and again. _

_Tears were full of her eyes. She was fed up and jumped off the table. _

_Moving as fast as a furious lion, Sherlock crushed her hard. "Where do you think you are going, Pet?" Her whole burning body was pinned up against the ice-cold wall. She hadn't had time to relax under the cooling effect before Sherlock spoke in a husky whisper. "How dare you disobey me."_

"_Please, Sherlock." She begged. "Please let me go."_

_Furious at her even thinking about leaving him, he ran his hands over her breasts, squeezing her nipples until they became hard little stones between her fingers. _

"_It's not right." She had trouble to inhale under him, "I can't…"_

_A yelp escaped her lips when Sherlock sucked on her breasts. Molly shifted, trying to get free, but was held still by Sherlock's hands on her waist. _

"_If you don't want me, Pet…" Sherlock's hands slowly moved up along her body curve until they were set on her jaw and forced her to look right into his eyes, "All you need to do…" He sucked the last bit of oxygen out of her, "…is to ask."_

_She bit her lips in haze, way too lost in the soothing effect of the wall and the deadly seduction of Sherlock. He turned her to face the wall and pushed her up. His left arm hooked her from chest to shoulder and his right hand locked her bottom right on his erection. _

"_So?" He asked softly. _

"_Don't." She couldn't even speak coherently._

"_Don't what?" _

"_Don't stop." She gritted her teeth._

"_Molly." She heard Sherlock murmured her name along with the sound of metal belt untying. Within seconds, Sherlock stroke his long and ready dick into her from behind. She banged on the wall so hard that she doubted that she might have a concussion. _

"_Molly." Sherlock grabbed her tightly while they rocked in synchrony. _

"Molly!" Sherlock shouted her name.

She suddenly woke up from her fantasy. "Yes. What can I help you, Sherlock?" She was way too shameful to raise her head and look at him.

Sherlock kneeled down in front of her. "Open your legs."

Molly blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Open your legs for me." She watched Sherlock's lips spitting out every word in that sentence. His shirt was damp from sweating and his chest was moving up and down as he breathed heavily.

Instinctively, she obeyed. She was all wet under her knickers. Even she can smell her clit in such exposing position. She was sure as hell that Sherlock would smell it too.

Then slowly, Sherlock bent down.

Molly held her breathe.

Sherlock picked up a pen under her chair.

She took the long and thick pen from him, feeling very lost and baffled.

* * *

He nearly laughed in front of her.

Oh. He wished that she could see her face! He had expected that while he was busy "exercising", little Miss Perfection would unconsciously fold her legs in shame and desire. He hadn't seen that she would be so ready and enthusiastic. And the frustration on her face when she took the pen was priceless!

He enjoyed playing with his little plaything very, very much.

"I would be back in an hour for the results." He pretended that he didn't notice just how much she craved for him. He would like herself to admit to the truth. He would like to see her begging on the floor for his attention and affection. He would love to hear her eventually calling him "Master".

Until then, she was still in need of suffering, a lot.

"But my shift ended fifteen minutes ago." Molly protested, "I have to go."

_What?_

Sherlock narrowed his eyes on her. He had been too invested in his game that he didn't even notice the clues until now. After several second's deduction, he fought with the urge to drag her to lie on her back and spank her harshly for her betrayal and stupidity.

How could she? He thought he made it clear ages ago. For the sake of law and order, she was stuck with him and would always be. Could she be so dumb that she refused to see the best option in front of her?

Bad Molly. Naughty Molly.

He was furious. And furious Sherlock was not the one any person would like to mess up with.

"Sure. Good luck with your date!"

He should have won the Oscar for best acting.


	2. No

AN: Many thanks to the few who actually enjoy this. This is gonna be much longer than I planned. One of the response said that this version of Sherlock is too cruel. I'm sorry. I have to stick to my original plot which had stuck in my head for way too long. I need to get it out of my system.

* * *

TWO

A gossip flatmate came in handy. It took him less than two minutes to trick John to slip out information he needed. Still, it hurt his pride that Molly would rather share her happiness with John. Tracking down her date was hence easy.

"Mr. Trevis." Sherlock intercepted the man outside his office, "I have a business proposal that might interest you."

"I'm sorry but I don't think we have met." Terry Trevis looked at his watch, "Who are you?"

"It doesn't really matter who I am." Sherlock forced a smile, "I'm here because of our mutual friend, Miss Molly Hooper."

"Right. Molly." Trevis thought about a second and said, "What about her?"

Slightly annoyed at Trevis calling her on first name base, Sherlock said, "I would suggest you to keep away from her."

"Why?" Trevis walked towards his car with Sherlock behind and opened the door.

Sherlock didn't elaborate the reason. One hand stopped Trevis closing the door, "Tell me, Mr Trevis. Does your boss know you own a Ferrari?"

Trevis' expression immediately tensed.

Sherlock sneered, "Don't be alarmed. I'm not here for your little financial issue. In fact, I might even be able to help you if you cooperate."

Trevis shot him a cold look, "What do you want from me?"

Sherlock chuckled. He always got what he wanted.

Admittedly, he felt a bit guilty for what he had done. She wouldn't be too happy if she knew that he had interfered with her love life. What could he do? He was no saint. He couldn't even bear the thought of her in another man's arms. He wouldn't even blink before breaking any finger dared to lay on her.

However, he was concerned about Molly's reaction towards Tetris' sudden change of heart. He went to Molly's place afterwards and found that Molly was just about to leave her flat. Sherlock hid behind the wall so that she wouldn't notice him. He wondered where she was going since the date was obviously off. So he followed her to St. Bart's.

His heart literally stopped when he saw her cutting herself with a scalpel through the window.

He kicked the door open and rushed to her like a tornado, pushing her up the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Sherlock roared.

Fuck. Was this about that piece of shit? Did he really upset her?

"Sherlock…" Molly breathed with difficulty, "Sherlock. You are chocking me."

Then he suddenly realized his hands had been all over her neck unconsciously. He let her go immediately, "Sorry."

Molly slipped down the wall and tried to recover from a moment of suffocation.

He sighed. Sherlock turned around with Molly's wrist in his hand and led her towards the table where swabs could usually be found. "Sit." Sherlock sat down and nodded at the seat next to him.

"I appreciate the thought, Sherlock." Molly struggled to break free from his grip and resisted to sit down, "The cut isn't deep so it won't be necessa…" Her voice was suddenly uplifted, "Ouuuuuuuch!" Her arm was pinched near the cut and it hurt so much that she had no choice but to obey him.

Sherlock held her arm still and refused to look at her in the eyes. He felt extremely jealous. She hadn't even met the man yet she was willing to hurt herself because that man blew off a date? Did it mean so much to her? He couldn't understand why she would cut herself. It was totally to go all "suicidal". What if he didn't keep an eye on her? How long had she been doing this to herself?

_Stupid, stupid woman. _

He hated her. He hated himself.

He felt Molly's careful gaze on his face but he kept a poker-face while he picked up a swab with a pair of tweezers. "I can sterilize my own skin, you know." She winced due to the burn of the antiseptic. "I'm a doctor and none of my patients ever complained."

Right. Here he was, worrying and angry to death. _And look at her._

"Don't make jokes, Molly."

Molly whispered, "Thank you." Sherlock rolled down her sleeve without saying anything in return.

He sighed. _Fine._ He supposed he could be nice to her, today. Only Today. "

"Let's have dinner. My treat." Sherlock grabbed her elbow, "And, no. I won't take no as an answer."

* * *

"When you said 'dinner'…" Molly watched Sherlock shaking the vending machine as hard as he could and then struggling to reach the bag of crisps in the gap between the shelf and the glass, "I assumed that you meant steak and wine…"

"A-ha!" Sherlock finally managed. He turned and threw his trophy at Molly. Molly picked the bag with one hand, "…Not stealing from the canteen vending machine."

"I will leave a twenty pounds' note behind, if that's what you are worried about."

"Can I have another Mars bar, please?" Molly opened the bag of crisps as she spoke. She wasn't really a fan of chocolate — It was too sweet for her taste —she just enjoyed the sight of Sherlock full on his hands and knees, helplessly, desperately and indulgingly. _Oh, the hips, those fantastic, moving hips. _Whoever bought Sherlock's trousers deserved a golden medal.

Sherlock murmured something Molly couldn't hear exactly and then he hit the machine and bent down again.

"Anyway, I just don't know why you don't pick the lock and get the coins from the machine." Molly put some crisps inside her mouth.

Sherlock suddenly stiffened. He looked at Molly as if he had just been stroke by a lightening. Molly shrugged and switched the bag of crisps to her right hand so that her left clean hand could take off a bobby pin from her head. "Here." She handed it to Sherlock.

Sherlock stood up and took it. He turned back to the machine and engaged in the unlocking. Neither of them said anything and the only sound could be heard was the crushing of crisps inside Molly's mouth.

After a period of long and awkward silence, Molly stepped closer to Sherlock, "Aren't you going to ask what happened?"

Sherlock kept poking the bobby pin inside the lock without showing slightest interest in conversation with her. Molly smiled weakly, "Right. I forgot who I'm talking to. You must have deduced everything. _Little fragile Molly Hooper can't even handle a turn down._" Her tone rose in a sardonic manner. "You must think of me really low now. Come on. Say something sarcastic like you usually do, Sherlock. _Self-mutilation is for losers and cutting oneself is boring._"

Sherlock simply inserted several coins into the machine, ignoring hysterical Molly. That only made Molly more irritated, "So you are gonna pretend that I'm not here? That I'm invisible and negligible?"

She watched Sherlock pressing the keys on the key pad all over. One bag after another fell and he bent down to pick them. She was tired of his game. Sometimes she felt he was really close to her. Sometimes she was blocked by a transparent wall and couldn't figure out what he was thinking. She was about to leave when he walked towards her, armed full of snacks. "Eat." He said it in the tone of command and gave her all the food, leaving her no choice.

She suddenly let out a laugh and sat down on the floor, leaning against the vending machine. "You are a strange man, Sherlock Holmes." She patted the space beside her, "Care to join me?"

Sherlock sat down next to her. Molly handed him a pack of chocolate but Sherlock shook his head. Molly shrugged and peeled off the package.

"My Mum wanted to travel around the world when she was young." She stared at the marble floor, "But then she met my Dad and had me."

"I'm not interested in your…" Sherlock interrupted.

"Ssssh…" She shushed him, "When I was a kid, she used to quarrel with Dad how he and I had trapped her in a life style she disdained the most. Dad loved me, of course, when he was sober. But when he was wasted, he beat her when she pushed too far, in front of me. They didn't notice me, Sherlock. They were like 'Molly bear is too little to understand.'" She turned to look at her with tears in her eyes, "But I do. It was my fault. I made their life a living hell."

Sherlock rolled up her sleeve quietly and gently blew air over her cut. "I needed to be punished." Molly eyed the scar, "So one day, when I had fed up with their fighting, I cut myself with a fruit knife. When the pain attacked me like a wave, a strange feeling of relief overwhelmed me."

"Pain releases endorphins." Sherlock stopped and gazed her with a deep look.

"Then the miracle happened. My parents stopped arguing and stared at the blood flowing from the wound shockingly. They rushed to me. Mum was crying and Dad lifted me up. I felt I was seen, really seen. I felt I was…" Molly stopped for a second, figuring what word to use, "…Loved."

Sherlock turned and looked into the long and empty hallway in front of them, with Molly's hand in his.

"Of course, I received a lot of therapy after that. A girl has got to stay positive, right?" She said with studied casualness.

"What were you thinking when you held the scalpel tonight?" Sherlock asked her softly.

"I thought it's my fault. I must have done something wrong." She added, "I know I'm damaged, Sherlock. I'm not exactly sociable but I've tried my best to fit in the society, to do what is considered to be normal, to meet other people's expectations. But from time to time it's too weary for me."

"No." Sherlock talked without looking at her, "You are not damaged. I don't care what excuse you use." He kept a tight grip at her hand. "DON'T CUT YOURSELF AGAIN." He said every word slowly and loudly. "That is an order."

She glanced at him with a strange expression.

* * *

"Why are you being so nice to me, Sherlock?" Molly asked him when they finished most of the crisps and candy —to be fair, only one bag of crisps was consumed by him— and sucked her thumb as she threw away the bag.

Secretly wishing she was sucking something else entirely, Sherlock replied, "What do you mean? I buy you lunches all the time."

"No, you buy me crisps, not lunches." She narrowed her eyes, "Now when I think about it, I'm not even sure you actually buy them."

"Don't worry. I won't give your name up when Lestrade interrogates me for vending machine theft." Sherlock grinned amiably at her.

His smile was frozen, when Molly tore up the packaging and wrapped her little pink mouth around the dark and thick Mars bar.


	3. Probably

AN: I do have to warn you before reading this chapter that it might be considered to be triggering. Please don't hate me.

* * *

Probably

_Call me immediately if convenient; if inconvenient, call me anyway. SH_

_Don't go to the date! SH_

_ANSWER YOUR BLOODY PHONE!_

He got fed up with this woman! Honestly! Hadn't she learnt anything yet all these years? Sherlock walked up the stairs in fury. He swore that woman got the worst taste of men on the earth!

All her dates had been dull and predictable, well except the one attempted to break prison and steal the crown jewel on the next day after being dumped. There was always a catch with each man: An abusive high school boyfriend, a gangster who pretended to be a saint, an international robber who sent her diamonds so big that could be easily be mistaken as fake ones, and so on. Her last date was a really big let-down, a corrupt accountant. Now this one… O This one was way below her standards.

Sherlock heard Molly's voice as he reached the second floor. "By the way, I asked the electrician to come here tomorrow, Meena." That must be Molly's flatmate who probably wouldn't be at home until very late. If Molly had been on phone with her tedious friend, no wonder she hadn't answered her phone. She was watching her steps, worrying too much about her high heels, without noticing Sherlock who strode towards her.

He was standing in front her, feeling his rage mounted yet still in control, until she finally saw him and a bright smile animated her face. She was a couple of steps above him in her favorite blouse and mini-skirt. He was a few steps below her in an uncustomary access of rage. "Is everything alright, Sherlock?" Molly moved her phone away from her mouth. He silently ascended the steps while Molly looked him up and down with curiosity until his eyes were on the same level with hers. He gazed at her.

"Yes, Sherlock?" He watched her glowing and smooth lips' every movement.

With one hand throwing away her phone and one hand gathering her mouth, he yanked her and kissed her upturned mouth, opening it and running his tongue inside her lips. She was utterly stunned. And when she realized what Sherlock was doing, she pushed his chest away hard but was locked by Sherlock's arms. Molly softened as their kiss grew deeper and deeper. Suddenly a 'click' sound startled her. She glanced down and saw her hands were cuffed. She looked up again in confusion, "Sherlock?"

All she got was the coming of a strip of medical tape to her mouth.

Sherlock bent down, lifted her and carried her over his shoulder. Molly kept screaming and hitting his back with legs flying in the air. To speak frankly, Sherlock had absolutely no interest in what she muffled under the tape but her struggling increased the difficulty to maintain balance. He nearly dropped her when they reached the third floor.

"Keep still!" His left hand slapped her hips instinctively. Sherlock could sense that Molly was shocked to freeze and hear her cry. It wasn't much of a slap yet. Her resistance only stopped for a second but then she fought back much violently. He ignored her opposition completely as if it was an inanimate object lying over his shoulder. He managed to take the key from Molly's handbag out and unlocked the door. The door was kicked when he entered the room.

Sherlock thought Molly mumbled something like "kill you!" or else.

He went straight to Molly's room — Of course he would have known. He had been peeking on her for a long time. — As soon as he put her down, Molly ran. They reached the bedroom door at the same time but Sherlock bumped into the door, destroying her last hope of escaping. Molly tore the tape and shouted, "What the fuck are you doing?"

Sherlock dragged her arms and threw her onto the bed.

Molly stared at him in terror and moved further as Sherlock came closer. _Even in the dangerous situations, her hair still hung elegantly over her shoulders. _Sherlock thought.

"Fuck off, Sherlock!"

Sherlock rolled her on her belly forcefully and lifted her skirt exposing her black lace panties underneath. Sherlock's heartbeat raced crazily. _This is her first date with that jackass and she wears this?_ Molly kept kicking and struggling but Sherlock held her still, face impassive and expressionless.

He slapped her buttock sound and hard, leaving a red and fresh handprint underneath the silky fabric.

Molly twisted to look at him with mouth agape. "That is for cursing." Sherlock explained before holding her down again, "And this is for not replying to my texts." He spanked her again. "…And calls." His hand fell on her buttocks again.

Molly raised her head and cried out, "GO TO HELL!"

Sherlock responded with another rough spank.

"This is for not telling me about your date." His voice was cold and cruel. Molly panicked and climbed with her elbows but Sherlock dragged down her by her ankle for another slap.

"Please, Sherlock. Don't hurt me." She begged with tears in her eyes.

"This is for not checking your date's background before you agreed." Sherlock smacked her again. Even his hand burnt like fire.

"What? What about David?" Molly asked, tears rolling down her cheeks, "Please let me go, Sherlock."

Sherlock stopped and rolled her on her back, raising her handcuffed wrists high. Under his towering, she seemed small and fragile as if she could break any moment. Her cheeks were blushing and her breath was ragged like his. He looked into her eyes. "See. You are not as strong as you think."

"What?" Molly shook her head.

"A rapist is a new low even for you. After all these years of listening to my deductions, you could at least google his name beforehand." Sherlock tied her hands to the metal bar with a rope, "I'm very disappointed." Of course he would give Lestrade the damn evidence to bring down that piece of shit but she needed to be punished.

"You are disappointed so you spank me and tie me to the bed?" Molly looked astonished.

"Self-defense practice." He told her only the half-truth.

"Unbelievable! Sherlock let me go, NOW!" She ordered him.

He didn't like her tone at all. _Take her. Take her now. _The beast inside him whispered. _Show her who you are. Teach her how to behave. _

He looked at the face inches away from him, the face that crept in his dreams every night. His sight dropped to her lips, those soft and warm temptations that he devoured a moment ago and he already missed them. And finally, her eyes, full of innocence and anger.

He loathed the innocence.

She was shifting between his legs and Sherlock didn't think that Molly was aware that she was basically caressing her hot body with his which only made things much worse for him.

_Here she is, defenseless and worked-up. _

"Sherlock?" Molly asked, "Free me."

O He would, but not in her concept of freeing and she would be so beautiful.

"What will you do, if people really try to rape you?" He whispered into her left ear.

She shivered. He chuckled.

He turned her on one side and she gave him a look with so many questions in her eyes. He rubbed one side of her buttock, fingers slipping inside the fabric and touching the burning spots. His right hand massaged her slowly in circular motions, cherishing every inch of her skin while his left hand traveled along her curve. Then he rolled her to the other side and repeated the massage. He was dying to kiss the lovely pink skin under the lace.

She bit her lips in silence.

He put her on her back reluctantly. Her breasts went up and down from breathing heavily, like a pray which knew its tragic fate.

He climbed over her again, fingers tracing along her snow-white thighs and parting her legs. "If_ I_ try to rape you, what will you do?" He pressed his body upon her, resting his cock between her thighs.

"Sherlock." She warned him.

He shook his head and grinned evilly. _She deserves a lesson. _He tilted her head.

_This is for trying to leave me_.

He kissed her hungrily.

* * *

Molly Hooper hated Sherlock Holmes.

She disliked him for being a pain in the ass at work, despised him for taking advantage of her crush on him to do everything for him even the trivial ones, and hated him for being so alluring and mysterious that she was always drawn back to him no matter how furious she was at him.

If it had been any other man, she would have torn the tape right there on the stairs and screamed so loud that the whole building knew what was going on.

If it had been any other man, she would have bitten his tongue off for ambushing on her.

If it had been any other man, she would have shot him with the gun hidden under her pillow.

But it was Sherlock _Bloody_ Holmes.

The man who she was stupid enough to be in love with for years.

"If_ I_ try to rape you, what will you do?" He asked her with those piercing and beautiful green eyes.

Was he playing another sick game? Molly wasn't sure. All she knew was that this man on top of her was kissing her with fierce passion that could burn the forest into ashes. Their kiss was like heroin, addictive and deadly. Her heart beat fast as if it was about to jump out of her. His hard and big cock was rubbing her pulsing sex through the fabrics while his hands were squeezing her butt and bosom.

This felt wrong. But this felt right.

_If I try to rape you, what will you do?_

She thought about what he asked. Then the horrible and terrifying realization hit her.

She'd let him.

She must be going mad. This man was forcing himself on her yet she wasn't willing to let go. Something was wrong with her clearly. It was his fault. He made it clear that he wasn't interested in romance and turned her down but right now his long and thick penis in the trousers couldn't wait to ravage her. He confused her deeply. She didn't know what he wanted. She wasn't sure what she wanted. Should she wrap her legs around him? Or should she just kick him in the balls?

Molly Hooper hated Sherlock Holmes for making everything complicated.

So she bit his lips. She bit so hard that his lips bled.

He must be going mad, too.

Because Sherlock gave an uncontrollable laugh, got off the bed and said, "That's my girl!" He left with corners of his lips curled up, ignoring her shouting to release her wrists.

Two hours later, when her flatmate untied her in panic, Molly still wasn't sure what the heck happened.


	4. Maybe

_AN: I'm so sorry for the delay. Here it is, the Chapter 4._

* * *

Maybe

Facing a mirror, Molly curled her eyelashes and finished her make up with a rosy lipstick. Her hand brushed her hair one last time. Then, her doorbell rang. With a last glance at the clock, she hurried to her door. It was just half past six and Jonathan arrived on time to pick her up for the ball.

Outside stood Sherlock.

"Oh. It's you." Molly didn't even bother to conceal her disappointment.

"No. No. No." Sherlock stopped her from slamming the door in front of his face, "I came here to apologize."

"Really? You? Sherlock Holmes?" Molly crossed her arms in front her chest and satirized, "Alright. I'm all ears."

"I'm sorry for spanking you and tying you up. I realize I might have given the wrong impression so I came to apologize and clear things up."

"_Wrong Impression? _Sherlock! You were trying to rape me!" Molly couldn't believe how shameless this man was.

"Forcing myself on you has never been my intention, and never will." Sherlock spoke with sincerity, "I can assure you that, if I ever rape you, things will end up very, very differently, involving positions which might be considered illegal in many counties."

Molly's heart skipped a beat. That man didn't know when to shut up, did he? She rubbed her temple.

"I would like to make it up to you." Sherlock pleaded, "I will be good, I promise."

Molly was tapping her foot on the floor. Jonathan would be here soon and she didn't have time and mood to deal with Sherlock's fucking shit whatever it was right now.

"Please?" Sherlock looked at her with puppy eyes like he always did when he asked for toes or another head to take away.

"Fine." She moved to let him in.

She was closing the door when Sherlock said "You look beautiful in that sapphire blue evening dress." She rolled her eyes at that sentence with her back to Sherlock before turning to him. _How typical_.

They were staring in awkward silence.

Molly raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. He was the one who came to knock on her door, not the other way around. She did nothing wrong and refused to back down. Maybe she should get some coffee for Sherlock, not for him to drink of course, but for her to simply throw the hot beverage onto his I-am-here-to-apologize-so-it-is-your-honor face.

Sherlock broke the ice by explaining, "I was really angry the other day because you were stupid and reckless."

How he managed to insult people even when he was the wrong one had always been a mystery to her. "Next time, if you find my date to be a suspect, please call me. Have you ever heard of a thing called 'Phone' by any chance?"

"I did but you didn't take my calls." Sherlock pouted.

"Then, send a message! Don't lock me up like a terrorist! What happened to the Sherlock Holmes who was unreasonably obsessed with texting?"

Sherlock didn't say anything in response. Instead he handed her a jewelry box.

"I can't believe you actually think that you can 'buy' my forgiveness." Molly didn't even take a look at the box before striking that disgusting thing into Sherlock's face as strongly as she could.

Sherlock caught the box, "Please, calm down." Molly answered with a few more blows of cushions and books.

"Molly."

An apple was flying towards him. _An apple a day keeps Sherlock Holmes away._

"Fine. If you want to get even, cuff me then." Sherlock caught the apple and took a bite. She could almost mistake the statement as some sort of compromise or compensation if that arrogant asshole didn't wear a big cheeky grin across his face.

A coffee mug was enough as her reply.

He ducked down. The cup made a clear sound when hitting on the wall.

She turned around to look for more stuff. When she was back, Sherlock stood really close, opening the box for her.

Molly stared wild-eyed at the black pearl necklace inside the box, each perfectly round, uniform and shining under the lights. She was speechless. She didn't know whether to thank him for the gesture or slap him for the humiliation. It always had been conflicting when it came to Sherlock Holmes, always.

"May I?" Sherlock smiled at her with all his charm.

Molly nodded even before she realized what she was doing. Standing in front of a mirror, she lifted her hair while Sherlock stepped behind her and put the necklace on her. The pearl necklace sat peacefully around her neck. The blue dress might make her look elegant, but these dark and exquisite pearls made her mysterious and noble.

Molly kept staring at her reflection in the mirror. After a while, her eyesight moved to Sherlock's reflection in the mirror, which seemed to have full attention on her neck. "I can't accept such expensive gift, Sherlock."

"Take it." Sherlock's magnetic voice sent gooseflesh all over her as if it could touch her soul. He smelt like peppermints, intoxicating her, melting her and corroding her.

"Sherlock." Molly called his name softly, and Sherlock just sniffed at her neck. She couldn't help but hold her breath at that exact moment.

"Have I mentioned your dress?" Molly couldn't think of any reason why Sherlock would ask that.

"Yes."

"It complimented your back perfectly." Sherlock used one finger to trace down her naked back, provoking electric shock down her spine, "You look lovely from behind."

His finger kept sliding down in a very agonizingly slow motion and stopped when it reached her waist while his hungry and lustful eyes maintain eye contact with her mirrored reflection. Then it went up under the edge of the fabric. "I should have looked for pearl ropes so that they can dangle on your back."

His hands settled at the crack of the dress. From the way Sherlock looked, there was a second that Molly thought he would rip the dress apart. An indescribable itching emerged from her heart and she waited in anxiety and some kind of twisted anticipation.

But he didn't.

He brushed her hair to one side and said, "You should have gone to the police."

"What?"

"I violated you. You should have reported me for sexual harassment. I confessed to Lestrade and he didn't believe me. Lestrade said that he checked with you and you told him nothing happened. He banned me, thinking I was being bored again."

Molly swallowed. She knew exactly what he was about to ask.

"Why didn't you?" He put his hands on her shoulders and whispered into her ears.

"I…"Honestly she had absolutely no idea how to explain.

"Why?"

"I'm conflicted, Sherlock. I'm angry with you but I don't want to destroy your reputation." Even Molly knew her reason sounded weak, "I value your friendship a lot."

Sherlock was quiet for few seconds and then he said, "But I don't want your friendship."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't want to be your friend. I want to be more than a friend, Molly."

"But…Wait." Molly blinked and turned around to face Sherlock. "I thought you were not interested in romance. I once asked you out and you subtly rejected me. Remember that Christmas after you said nasty things about my gift, you realized the gift was for you. I thought things would be different because you finally knew my _secret_ crush on you but you behaved as if nothing happened. Even after the fake suicide and your miracle resurface, you made it clear that we are just colleagues."

"I'm never interested in being your boyfriend, Molly."

"Oh. Okay." She just embarrassed herself again in front of him, didn't she?

"I want to be your master."

"Excuse me?" She must have misheard him. This got to be a joke.

"M-A-S-T-E-R."

She must be having a nightmare. The Holmes had been peculiar, she understood. But when did Holmes family involve in slavery? Most importantly, how was it any of her business? Molly looked down at the necklace. Did she just sell herself over a piece of jewellery?

"Sexually."

Dear Lord.

"Can you be mine, Molly?" Sherlock brushed her hair and touched her cheek.

"What you are asking requires an enormous amount of courage and commitment, Sherlock." Molly tried her best to remain calm, "I don't think I can do it."

"You don't trust me enough with your life and soul?" There was fury and a bit pain in Sherlock's voice.

"Sherlock, I just want a normal boyfriend who may someday give me a normal family."

An ice-cold expression appeared on Sherlock's face, "So, am I a freak to you, Molly? Does belonging to me make you a freak?"

Molly was frozen. Her brain was blank after hearing the hurting words coming from Sherlock.

She slapped him.

Sherlock covered his face in surprise.

"You know how I always feel about you, Sherlock. How dare you?" Molly was sobbing. "Why are you always like this?"

Sherlock straightened up. He wanted to wipe Molly's tear but she turned her face away.

"I'm sorry."

She was so sick of his apology. "Get out, Sherlock." She took off the necklace as quickly as possible and threw it at Sherlock.

"Molly." Sherlock seemed unwilling to leave.

"Jonathan will be here shortly. Get out before I ask him to kick you out." She opened the door.

* * *

Sherlock watched Molly and that tedious Jonathan get in the taxi.

He had a surprise for them, for Jonathan to be exact.

It was very likely that they would 'accidently' run into Catherine, Jonathan's ex-wife who was on good —in fact, too good— terms with Jonathan.

If Sherlock Holmes couldn't have Molly Hooper, then nobody should.


	5. Definitely

Definitely

Things had been great with Jonathan. (Although sometimes a little voice inside her mind whispered about suspicions between Jonathan and his ex, Jonathan had assured her that Catherine and he were just friends now.) He was caring and humorous who laughed at her jokes and always opened doors for her. She even once asked Lestrade to check on Jonathan's background —there was no way that she would ask Sherlock for help — and so far Jonathan seemed to be a proper doctor.

So she had invited Jonathan to her home for dinner and hoped that they would know more about each other over a lovely home-made meal.

As Molly was pushing the trolley down the aisle and looking for the ingredients, she heard someone calling her name. She turned around.

"It's me, Zack!" The man waved at her cheerily. "Hey, Molly."

She smiled warmly, "Oh My God. Zack! What a surprise! How are you? How's the business?"

"A bit territory disagreement with the Mafia. Other than that, great." Zack scratched his head, "Are you still working in St. Barts?"

Molly chuckled and nodded. She always liked Zack's jokes. "How long has it been? Three years?"

"Three and a half." Zack corrected, "Speaking of which, I owed you an apology."

She had received way too much apology lately.

"What for? I'm the one who got food poisoning and vomited like a volcano in front of you. I was so embarrassed to see you again." Molly could still vividly recall the scene as if it was yesterday. She had woken up in the hospital in the next day and honestly from the way she had ruined his clothes, even she couldn't blame Zack for feeling awkward and not willing to pursue their relationship.

"Wait. Did that high cheek-boned dude tell you it was food poisoning?" Zack narrowed his eyes.

"Who?" Molly was baffled.

"Dark curly hair..." Zack thought for a second and began to describe the man, "Speaks really fast… Looks like an otter."

_Right. What exactly did you do, Sherlock?_

Molly face-palmed, "Please don't tell me he sabotage between us."

"No. No. Molly." Zack interrupted her, "He saved your life."

"Come again?" Molly tilted her head.

"Right. Remember that fancy restaurant? Near the end of the meal, I went to the loo and by the time I came back, you had finished the half of the dessert."

"…and puked all over you." Molly blushed, "Yes, I remember that part."

"Well. I should actually be blamed for the incident."

"What do you mean?" She didn't think he was making any sense.

"Well. In my line of work, it is very easy to make enemies and people who get close to me might be chosen as targets."

"Excuse me? In your line of work?"

Zack looked at Molly in question, "I thought I told you what I did for a living. Molly, you know I'm a gangster, right?"

Molly opened her mouth and shook her head, "Hold on. I thought you were being funny."

Zack shrugged. "Any way, the point is, someone deliberately poisoned in our cakes and you were chocking on your own puke. I was so shocked and frightened. I called the ambulance. That was the only thing I knew what to do at the time. Then that high cheek-boned dude came out of nowhere and performed CPR on you. I think he also gave you a shot of something because your conditions became better and you past out. Do you remember that part?"

"No, I don't." Molly didn't lie. When she woke up in the next day, Sherlock was sneering beside her about her bad choice of food and men, complaining like a whining baby about how inconvenient this accident had made his detective work.

"When I watched that man gave you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and kept calling your name, I thought how lucky you were to have a guardian angel."

Molly didn't know what to say. There were no words to describe her measure of gratitude for saving her life towards Sherlock and confusion for not telling her the truth.

"But I was wrong. Later after the ER took you away, the man turned to me with a deadly look as if he could slaughter a village without blinking. He didn't say a word but I understood immediately. Molly, this is coming from a man whom even the Mafia has to pay respect to: I was scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Wolf." Zack smiled at her brightly while his following sentence sank her heart.

"You, Dr. Molly Hooper have been watched over by a wolf."

* * *

_Molly was locked up to her bed, again, wearing nothing but the black pearl collar. Just like the last time, Sherlock was on top of her, towering, shadowing and overpowering her. Only this time, he was as naked as her. _

_She felt ashamed and humiliated for her state of exposure and desire so dark that scared her. Why did he always put her in such difficult situation?_

_Therefore when his lips caught hers in a stormy fashion, she bit him again. Molly licked her lips and enjoyed the iron-like taste. When Sherlock immediately seized her throat with a forceful hand, she closed her eyes. She made her point clear and she was ready for the consequences. _

_Any consequence. _

_She felt his hand let her go and Sherlock's downward movement. He forced her legs to bend so Molly opened her eyes to see what was going on. _

_Only to open on the sight of Sherlock grinning like a Cheshire cat. _

_She could literally feel his breath and his tongue darting at her distended clitoris. _

"_No. No." She screamed. The whole thing between Sherlock and her was against common sense, morale and everything she believed in. She screamed in the sanctuary of her mind and sanity. _

_But that devil didn't back down. Instead as she protested louder and louder, his tongue stroke lower and lower the clitoris with slightest pressure. Her hips were frozen in the air, inches above the bed, supported by the handcuff that chained her. And his tongue went lower, mindlessly lapping the base of her vagina and occasionally her crack of buttocks. Waves of pleasure jetted her and quickly they became the source of torment. It wasn't enough. No, it wasn't. _

_She clenched her teeth. He took what he wanted, oblivious to her lust. She knew his plot. He wanted her to hunger, to beg, to plead, and to surrender. She refused. She would never be defeated like this. _

_Molly moved her hips in the hope of escape from Sherlock. But he fixed her waist with his strong hands in the next instant. He pressed his face into her vagina and kept stabbing his tongue into her with his lips clamping her and sucking her fiercely. My God. Did he ever breathe? She wondered._

_As the orgasm shook her last wall of defense, she moaned. Her body was saying 'Yes' while her mind was saying 'No'. The battling between the two added pain and misery to her and what's worse, the forbiddance only left her desiring more. _

"_No." She said it with all her courage and last bit of rationality. _

"_No."_

"No." She opened her eyes and pushed the man above her who was kissing her gently away.

"What's wrong?" Jonathan sat up, "Is everything okay?"

"No, it isn't." Molly stood up and adjusted her clothes. Jesus Christ. She got trapped in the fantasy of Sherlock in the middle of making out with Jonathan on the couch. "I'm so sorry, Jonathan. I can't do this anymore." What would be the next? Screaming Sherlock's name during their intercourse?

Her brain was fucked up. But she didn't need to drag Jonathan into all these craziness.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan."

She didn't tell Jonathan about what happened. He sighed and left with understanding. As she saw Jonathan walking out through the window, she wondered what life would be like if she chose Jonathan. They would probably live in a big house near the countryside with two kids, a dog and a cat. He would kiss her goodbye before work and bring flowers on their anniversaries.

This fairy-tale life could happen if Molly Hooper hadn't met Sherlock Holmes.

He was her curse.

She knew this probably sounded pathetic: There was no way she could accept any man other than Sherlock. She understood it now. Molly was seduced by his charm and protected in his own way. He said and acted differently but both in her best interest. Things would have been much easier if he could behave like the others but then he wouldn't be him.

Sherlock Holmes ruined Molly Hooper for other men.

There were absolutely no choices or alternatives. There was just him. She loved and hated him in the best way.

Hence she should ruin him, too. It was only fair.


End file.
